


cause the devil's got my arms

by restless5oul



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Eating Disorders, Family, Friendship, Gen, No Romance, Orla-centric, i know an angst fic about orla, i went there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 02:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18562015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restless5oul/pseuds/restless5oul
Summary: orla liked to eat, she really did. until she didn't.





	cause the devil's got my arms

**Author's Note:**

> i cannot stop writing fic for this fandom.
> 
> okay so, i basically just got the idea from this fic from a combination of orla's step aerobic obsession, some of the things aunt sarah says and orla's constant snacking. not that i'm trying to say any of this is implied in the show, i'm 100% sure it's not. but i just saw how parts could be interpreted this way.
> 
> i'm no expert on portraying eating disorders and this is mostly just from personal experience, but please do tell me if anyone seems out of sorts.
> 
> also orla is a really difficult character to write from the pov of, because part of her charm is not being aware of her thought process. but i tried my best. i really wanted to write a fic with her at the centre, as she's one of my absolute faves and i wanted something a little darker than the tone of the show.
> 
> anywho, i hope you enjoy, please do leave comments/kudos. and thanks for reading!
> 
> title is from grip by bastille
> 
> also the obvious trigger warnings for eating disorders.

Orla liked to eat. She really did, until she didn’t.

~

 

She remembered the first time she was made to think maybe there was something wrong with the way she ate.

“Honey, you eat any more of that and your teeth’ll fall out,” her mother chastised, her eyes widening as Orla took another bite of her chocolate bar.

“Wah?”

Her mother sighed, half in longing, half in exasperation.

“You’re lucky you’re young enough you can get away with it. One day it’ll catch up to you.”

The look in her mum’s eyes looked more sad than criticising, like she was missing something she’d lost.

Orla took another bite of her chocolate, more tentative this time.

Like her mam said, she could get away with it.

~

 

“Jesus Orla, you’re gonna get dia-fucking-betes,” Michelle smacked the marshmallow out of her hand. Sure she had pinched it off the top of her hot chocolate, but Orla really wanted the marshmallow.

She frowned as it landed on the floor next to Clare, lying sad looking against the carpet. And then she remembered what her mammy had told her. Maybe it was for the best.

The next day Orla took the bus into town to go to the library and looked up diabetes in the medical dictionary. She wasn’t sure she understood most of it, but the general gist of it was pretty unpleasant.

 _Sugar, vascular disease, blindness, strokes, destruction of nerve tissue_.

Her eyes widened. Jesus.

She scanned down to the page to the subsection titled ‘management’.

 _Limit caloric intake, regular exercise, avoid simple carbohydrates_.

Sounded simple enough.

And anyways, Orla didn’t actually have diabetes. She would be fine.

 ~

 

“Would you look at that love!” her mother gasped excitedly, leaning forward so she was closer to the mirror.

Orla tried her best not to tug on her mam’s hair where she was braiding it.

“My collarbone.”

Orla narrowed her eyes, unsure what she was supposed to be looking for.

“Look at it, all poking through again. I’ll tell you this Atkins diet really is doing wonders for me, much better than that Rosemary Conley. I had no idea carbs could be so bad for you, but look at this, the weight’s just dropping off me.”

She supposed her mum had lost some weight, but Orla wasn’t sure if that was worth the cabbage soup she’d been eating. The house hadn’t smelt the same in days.

“That looks grand love,” her mum smiled, patting the now finished braid. She stood up and kissed Orla on the cheek.

Orla watched her mother leave the room. She was going to follow her downstairs but something made her stop and turned to look at the bathroom mirror she was stood in front of. Frowning slightly, she did a few more buttons on her school shirt and pulled it aside so she could look a little closer at her own chest. Her collarbone didn’t stick out that much, not unless she hunched her shoulder forward. She let her fingers skim across the top of the bone, and she felt an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Maybe she could do with changing things a little, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to eat a few less sweets, just rein it in a little.

“Orla come on! I’m leaving!” her cousin shouted up the stairs, and Orla heard the sound of her opening the front door.

“Coming!”

 ~

 

Orla stared at the shelves in front of her, the rows and rows of sweets and chocolate bars. Usually by now she would have carefully worked out the maximum amount she could get for the coins she held in her fist. But something had made her pause, and there was an unfamiliar anxiety in her chest. She opened her hand and stared down at the coins, gnawing on her lip as she tried to work out what she was supposed to do.

She thought about the things she’d read about diabetes, what her mum had said about her eating catching up with her, about her mum’s dieting, about her collarbone. It all made her head spin.

“Orla! Jesus what’s the hold up?” Michelle stuck her head round the shelf at the end of the aisle, “Are you getting something or not?”

Orla opened her mouth to answer but the words got caught in her mouth for a moment.

“Uh…no, no I’m not.”

“Christ alive, you’re the one who dragged us in here in the first place!”

Feeling oddly like she’d been caught in a lie, though really there was nothing to lie about, Orla stuffed her spare change back into her blazer pocket. At Michelle’s withering look, Orla glared and stomped her way out of Dennis’ Wee Shop.

“What’s her fucking problem?” she heard Michelle grumble.

Honestly, Orla didn’t have an answer to that.

 ~

 

In the regular whirl of the pre-school morning rush, Orla was sat nursing her cup of tea, staring at the plate in front of her. She’d made her toast, buttered it, cut it into quarters and she should have started eating it around two minutes ago. But there was a little voice in her head that was talking nonsense about white bread and carbs and bloating. She ate toast for breakfast most days and she’d never thought there was anything wrong with it. But maybe this was something else she should think about changing. She’d cut out the sweets completely, and she thought she felt a little better for it, but she couldn’t see much of a difference.

Suddenly a hand appeared from beside her and swap one of the quarters of toast off her plate.

“That’s mine,” Orla protested, looking up at Erin who had the toast hanging out her mouth.

“Well you were just staring at it, it wasn’t gonna eat itself,” Erin shrugged. Orla frowned but she didn’t move to pick up any of the other slices.

“Are you feeling alright love?” her mother asked her from across the table, reaching out to touch her hand.

“Aye, I’m alright Mammy. I just don’t fancy toast,” Orla smiled, reaching to take an apple from the fruit bowl behind her. This would be better, this felt safer.

 ~

 

“Orla, please could you get your elbow out of my stomach?” Clare muttered.

The five of them were stretched out across Erin’s bed, snacks, notebooks and pencils scattered around them. They were supposed to be studying, but Orla had given up about half an hour ago, there was little point when she couldn’t concentrate. She currently had her feet resting on Michelle’s thighs, her bum planted on Erin’s, her torso on top of Clare and her head resting on James, who had covered her face with the textbook he was reading.

Orla shuffled, trying to get into a different position so her elbow wasn’t digging into Clare. But her moving around resulted in a chorus of groans and protests from her friends. Clare ended up simply pushing her elbow out of the way.

“God you’ve gotten so bony,” Clare whined.

“I have?” Orla asked, pushing James’ book aside so she could look at her friend, suddenly interested.

“Well your elbows certainly are.”

“And your arse,” Erin grumbled, squirming beneath her cousin.

“Hmm,” Orla hummed, feeling pleased with herself, an unfamiliar feeling of satisfaction warming her.

“Want an opal fruit Orla?” James suddenly piped up, riffling around in the bag of sweets that was sat next to him. Orla stiffened instantly. Why was he offering her this now? Just when she was finally starting to do well, to see the results that people always talked about, why was he trying to ruin everything?

“No, no I don’t,” she snapped, pulling James’ book back over her face so he couldn’t see her furious expression.

“I was only asking…” James mumbled, sounding affronted, “You haven’t touched your study snacks yet.”

“Well maybe that’s because I don’t want any James!” Orla sat up, ignoring Erin and Clare’s complaints, moving as far away from James as she could.

“Jesus Orla, you don’t have to bite his head off,” Michelle sniggered, looking very much like she didn’t mind Orla’s outburst at all. Orla gave her a glare too for good measure.

She glanced at the four bemused faces looking back at her, and she felt a twinge of guilt at the hurt on James’, but she was too busy trying to beat back the panic rising in her throat. She wasn’t sure exactly what was causing the panic, but she knew she didn’t like it.

“Orla are you-?”

But she slammed the door before Clare could finish that question.

 ~

 

Orla was stood in the middle of her living room, her mother fussing around her as she tried on her Easter dress.

“Och, Mary, you’d think the wain’s been dropped into it. You wouldn’t nip it in a bit for her? I’d do it myself but sewing plays havoc with my acrylics,” her mother said, tugging at the fabric around Orla’s waist.

She looked down, and her mother was right, the dress was hanging off her around her middle, the sleeves were now too big for her upper arms, and the fabric slid past her hips where it had previously clung on tight. Orla knew that if she took a trip to the bathroom now and looked in the mirror, she was sure she’d see her collarbone jutting out from under her skin. She couldn’t exactly explain why it felt so worth it, but something about the pride in her mother’s voice had something to do with it.

There was also the fact that it had all turned into a sort of game for her. Finding out what food she could go without next, how long she could last between meals, trying to find a way to leave a little more on her plate at each dinner time. It was a private game she kept to herself, hiding it was almost part of the fun. She wasn’t really sure why she felt the need to hide exactly what she was doing, but it was like a part of her knew people wouldn’t approve. And that meant people would tell her to stop, and she didn’t want to stop.

“Don’t I look grand Mammy?” she smiled, needing to hear the praise just one more time.

“Aye you do love, a right picture,” her mum smiled, pinching her cheek, “You grow up so fast.”

Her mammy didn’t think anything was wrong, so Orla was sure she was okay.

~

 

“Something’s wrong I’m telling you.”

Orla was stood at the living room door, her aerobics step tucked under her arm. She was busy wiping the sweat off her forehead and toeing off her trainers when she heard Clare’s voice float in from the other room. She hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be in, and she had been looking forward to dragging her tired feet up the stairs and falling into bed. But Clare’s usual frantic tone made her pause.

“Catch yourself on, there’s nothing wrong Clare. This is Orla we’re talking about,” Michelle’s scoffing voice appeared next.

So they were talking about her. Now Orla was definitely going to stay and listen.

“If there was something bothering Orla, she would have told us. She tells us everything, _literally_ everything,” Erin was next to speak, clearly confident that she knew her cousin well.

“She has been acting kind of strange…” James said quietly. So they really were all there. Had they gathered just to talk about her? Or had the conversation just drifted this way?

“She’s fine,” Erin countered.

“She actually looks kind of ill…” James mumbled again, like the thought had suddenly occurred to him.

“See! James agrees with me,” Clare exclaimed.

“That means nothing. He’s an eejit and you’re a walking cack attack, of course you both think there’s something wrong,” Michelle said, and Orla could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“Look. If there was _I’d_ know okay? She’s my cousin alright, I’ve known her my whole life, Aunt Sarah would have told me if she was sick,” Erin said, and there was something in her voice that said that was the end of the conversation. Orla didn’t stick around to listen in case they said anymore.

She wasn’t ill, that much was clear to her. But she felt awful at hearing the concern in Clare and James’ voices. But the thought that anything was wrong was not one she entertained. They probably just had it all mixed up in their heads. She was fine, in fact, she’d never been better.

 ~

 

The first time she had a notion that something might be wrong was the night she raided the Christmas cupboard. She’d been lying in bed, and the only thought she could make out in her head was that she needed food, and she needed it now. But there ensued an internal struggle where part of her was desperate not to undo all her good work, while another, more primal part of her was raging against her body for denying her food. In the end that primitive instinct won out. And she moved as if on autopilot.

She felt sick from the first bite of a Tunnock’s Teacake. It was as though her body was trying to tell her that this was wrong, like it was rejecting the very act. But she kept going, after the Teacakes it was chocolate, then sweets and biscuits. She kept going until her stomach and throat ached and there was bile rising in her mouth as she fought to keep it all down.

Her first immediate reaction was panic. How was she going to hide what she’d done? She gathered up all the empty wrappers and boxes and trotted outside to dump them into their neighbour’s bin. But after the panic came a little guilt, but mostly nausea. She hadn’t eaten that much in weeks, maybe months. And certainly not that much sugar in one sitting.

No doubt that was how she found herself knelt in front of the upstairs toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach. Her body shook and shivered as she kept retching until her throat burned.

“Orla?” there was a small voice from the door, and through the crack Orla could see her cousin standing outside, “Jesus, are you alright?”

She might have answered, had she not been struck by another wave of sickness, and she coughed out the last few chunks that had been swimming around in her stomach.

“I don’t feel very well,” Orla mumbled, wiping the back of her mouth with her hand, her usually gravelly voice sounded rougher than usual. She felt Erin’s hand on her back, and heard a noise of disgust as she leant over to flush the toilet.

“Do you want me to get Aunt Sarah?” Erin asked, and Orla could hear her filling up a glass with tap water, but she was still slumped by the toilet, too bone-tired and drained to move.

“No, no. Don’t do that,” Orla said, taking the water from her cousin and using it to rinse out her mouth.

Erin still helped her to her feet, and feeling like she was half asleep already, Orla let her lead her from the bathroom. She walked past Orla’s bedroom door, and instead took her into her own room. It had been years since Orla had snuck into her cousin’s room so they could sleep in the same bed, but tucked up with Erin wrapping her arms around her protectively, Orla was glad she was there.

“You’ll feel better in the morning,” Erin whispered.

Orla didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to tell Erin that in a weird way she felt better already. Sure the vomiting hadn’t been fun, but at least now she didn’t have to think about all the food sitting in the pit of her stomach anymore. At least it was all gone and she didn’t have to worry about throwing everything off track. This was a blip and she wouldn’t be repeating it.

 ~

 

And then the stares started. It was Erin’s eyes boring into her across the dinner table, watching each measly bite she took. Or Clare unable to to be subtle about the fact that she was taking in the newfound sharp edges of Orla’s body. And James opening his mouth every five seconds like he was going to say something, but never managing to find the words. Even Michelle looked at Orla like she had grown two heads of all of a sudden, and not in the same way she did before. Orla strongly suspected Erin had told them what had happened the night of the Christmas cupboard incident.

It made hanging around the four of them a little difficult. She felt like they were all tiptoeing around her, like she was some ticking time bomb and they didn’t know when she was going to blow. So she started to hang out with them less, and that only increased the worried glances and nervous whispers whenever they thought she was out of ear shot.

Orla guessed it was only a matter of time before someone guessed what she was doing or they asked. She wasn’t sure what she would say if one of them confronted her. In the end, she didn’t really have to say much.

“I know what’s wrong Orla,” a small voice said behind her, making her jump. Her immediate thought was how she was going to hide the cigarette she had in her hand, the one she nicked out of Michelle’s purse. In the end, there really was nowhere for it to go, so she gripped it tightly, and hoped James wouldn’t ask why she had it – at some point she’d figured out it helped her ignore the hunger pangs in her stomach.

Orla glanced over her shoulder, and saw James standing with his hands in his pockets. She just scowled and resumed her staring out over the River Foyle.

“You’re not eating,” he continued, still stood behind her.

“I am eating,” she snapped, which was technically the truth.

“Not enough,” James countered, and he had a point there.

Orla didn’t say anything. She took one last drag of the cigarette before dropping it into the water below.

“Why?” James asked, finally standing beside her.

“I…” Orla chewed on her lip, unsure how she could articulate it in a way that would make sense. It didn’t even make sense to her really.

“Do the others know?”

She decided to switch tactics instead, avoid the really difficult questions.

“I’m not sure. I think they’ve convinced themselves you have some grave, mystery disease- “

“Maybe I do,” Orla interrupted. That sounded like a much more exciting excuse than the truth.

“You don’t.”

Orla sighed, looking down and pouting at the ground beneath her feet.

“How do you know?” she mumbled.

She could see James shrug out of the corner of her eye.

“I guess I just noticed, and once I started to see it I couldn’t help but notice. You always used to be eating, now you’re not anymore. You look tired, and thin. I don’t know why you’d do it though Orla, I don’t understand.”

“Me neither,” Orla mumbled, “Anything I’d say would just sound completely mental.”

“We already know you’re completely mental Orla,” James said, and Orla guessed that was his idea of a joke.

“Not like this,” she felt something wet on her cheek as she spoke. She reached up and felt a tear beneath her fingertips. Why was she crying? She sniffed, and tried to tell herself to pull it together. She was tough, she didn’t cry over…well, she didn’t know what it was that was making her cry. Worry that her friends would judge her? Or just knowing that she had to face up to what she was doing to herself.

“You don’t have to explain it to me if you don’t want to. But I think you should tell the girls, they can help.”

Orla’s initial instinct was to insist that she didn’t need help. But she was beginning to think that was a lie.

“Aye,” she murmured.

“They’re back at the house,” James said and Orla finally looked up at him, “You can come with me? We’ll go together?”

Orla nodded. For the walk home James didn’t say anything else, which Orla appreciated. She tried, but she still hadn’t thought of anything to say when she walked into the living room. Erin, Michelle and Clare were sat on the sofa and their heads snapped towards Orla as she stepped inside. They stood frozen for a second, and she could see the anticipation on their faces, they must have been able to tell that they were going to find out the answer to all their unasked questions.

But she couldn’t find anything to say. The awkward silence that descended over them only lasted thirty seconds before Erin stood up and walked over to Orla and pulled her into a tight hug. Michelle and Clare was close behind her, joining the group hug, and a few seconds after them James too. There was relief and comfort in the gesture.

She would be alright. It was going to be alright.


End file.
